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Yet another plothole

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So I’m editing a YA novel I’ve been working on since the first flea circus* and I had one of those “How did I miss this?”moments, in which I did the same stupid thing bad horror movies have done since Muybridge invented the zoopraxiscope.** My protagonist is attacked my a ghost in the middle of the night and sleeps in the same room the very next night, anyway. She is not an idiot. She would never ever do that. And yet, she did. At least she used to. And that, my friends, is why there’s no such thing as a completed manuscript.